


Alley Days

by Fishlyn



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, F/F, F/M, no beta we die like Glenn, slow fic, tbh idk what im doing, we make our own food in quarantine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:01:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23310565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fishlyn/pseuds/Fishlyn
Summary: Names are important.They carry with them first impressions, feelings, and forgotten memories.Here are the in-between days and stories long left behind.
Relationships: Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc/My Unit | Byleth
Kudos: 10





	1. Cerise

Against echoes of drunken revelry in the depths of night, a boy is born into the world. The first room he sees is dark, and the air he first breathes is musty and dust-filled, laced with the sour scent of sweat, tears and old perfume. Lovingly wrapped in ragged linens and gently placed into the arms of his proud but exhausted mother, he quickly falls asleep and his desperate cries go quiet. Gentle kisses adorn his head, as his mother slowly rocks him.

Although the walls are thin and the noisy complaints of their neighbors can once again be heard, the young woman pays no mind. Her attention is solely focused on the infant lying peacefully in her arms, blissfully unaware, blessedly unaware, of the harsh world he was just born into.

Shadows flickered against the rotting wooden walls of the hastily rented room, and a bottle suddenly shattered against the other side. The child slumbered on, and the new mother clutched her son a little tighter.

Like a tiny blessing from the Goddess in her dark world. 

“What should I call you? You are so small, and you have such a pretty face. Like one of those birds, the ones you see on those trees outside in the morning. Not like the ones in those shiny cages _they_ bring. No, like the little brown ones that can fly around as they please. You’ll find your own way, won’t you? Éloi seems like a good name. As pretty as you are. Although prettiness is sometimes more of a curse...but you’ll be free, won’t you? You’ll find your own path. I don’t know much about the stars, but I’m sure the Goddess won’t disagree when I say you must have been born under a lucky one. Won’t you, my little bird? My little Éloi Vogel Leclerc”.


	2. Don't accept jobs from the underground, no matter how much gold you can get

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorothea is 14 and makes the mistake of choosing the wrong client. She meets someone while going to collect her money for last night's job.

“Ladybird. That’s a good name for a pretty girl like you, right? Lovely name to listen to, but not quite what you’re looking for when you do see one. Just a humble little thing like the rest of us.” 

Sunlight filtered weakly through a narrow alleyway shaded by haphazardly hung laundry. Occasionally, the pale light of the sun would briefly disappear as fast-moving clouds would cover its rays. Likewise, what pale light that reached the alley flashed with it. 

It was as those words were spoken, a particular patch of sunlight illuminated the pale face of a young girl, like one of the spotlights she regularly performed under as a songstress. She was young, but it was clear she was not untested by the waters of life. 

“I should think stalker would be a good name for you too, considering the length of time you’ve been following me for. What do you want? It is quite rude of you to follow a girl like this, you know?”

A low laugh was heard from the shadows. The clouds drifted, briefly revealing the beautiful face of a purple haired youth. 

“I wonder what the Mystical Songstress of the Mittlefrank Opera Company is doing in such a dark and lonely place. Looking for someone perhaps? Though I do wonder who you would be looking for to swing by _this_ part of the city.”

“I’d rather not answer that to someone I’ve barely seen, let alone barely met. And as I really am at _that part of the city_ maybe I shouldn’t even answer you at all.”

“Ah, can I really not be concerned for the safety of a lady such as yourself? I’m hurt by your harsh words, songstress, I thought the words you speak were supposed to be sweet.”

The girl slowly turned her head, carefully evaluating her options. An unconscious frown adorned her beautiful face. As much as she didn’t want to admit, she felt scared of going to the darker parts of the city. The plain clothes she wore as well as the shawl wrapped around her helped conceal her presence and more importantly, her identity, but it certainly did not fool the one who had following her. She had noticed them only after a worrying amount of time weaving between cramped alleyways lined with slouching apartments shuttered tightly against the all-seeing light of day. 

“How sorry to disappoint. I believe you have mistaken me for someone else. If you’re looking for some Mystical Songstresses, far better to go look at the opera house yourself. Now, if you would excuse me.”

“Not so fast. Though I’m not stopping you, I doubt you’d enjoy what you’d find at your destination. After all, there is quite a lot of blood. From what I know, its quite the hassle getting it out. Well, not that it would matter if you’re dead on that same bloody floor. Dorothea the Dead Mystical Songstress just doesn’t seem right, does it?”

She froze. Now fully looking at the person who had crept up to her so skilfully, she fought to suppress a shudder. Skillful. That either means a thief, or worst, an assassin or someone from one of the gangs. 

“Well, how helpful. Though I don’t doubt this is nothing but a friendly tip, I cannot help but wonder what sort of person you are to hear _that_ sort of rumour.”

Still partially shrouded in shadow, the figure smiled charmingly and gave a bow. His lilac hair fluttered briefly in the passing breeze. 

“Seems only right, eh? The Savage Mockingbird himself, at your service. I don’t doubt you know what this means?”

Dorothea felt her neck grow cold at those words. The alley was deathly silent. Had it always been this way? When did it- no matter. What was important was her getting out of this situation, alive, and preferably in one piece. And if the person in front of her really was the Savage Mockingbird, she would need far more than the typical lightning spell she reserved for the typical stalker. Her palms were sweaty. If she had lived through her life before the opera in the slums without dying from the gangs, or disease or drunken people, she wouldn't die today. 

“Well, I’m honoured that you decided to warn me yourself. Though _I_ don’t doubt you’re here to simply deliver a warning. What do you really want from me?”

“Well, since you asked so nicely, I’m only here to ask you a question about your engagements last night. While I understand most ladies would like to keep their nighttime endeavors to themselves, I do know that last night was...a little more out of the ordinary, you could say. Am I right?”

Opening her mouth to protest, she was cut short as the youth continued on.

“You don’t need to deny it. Though I’d admit the pay is good, I’d avoid making a habit of entertaining crime lords in their secret meetings with other crime lords if I can. They usually only pay extravagantly since they know they’d get everything back after all. Sorry, I meant singing. Entertaining can be...quite different in a way.”

“I suppose you know because you’re someone who does the same?”

“I can understand the convenience of it I guess, less chance of secrets being revealed and all. Though I myself have never done that sort of thing before. I do value the lives of us commonfolk after all. Seems wasteful and rather cruel to do, no?”

The two were now standing almost eye to eye. If not for the thick tension in the air and the sharp scent of a budding Lightning, it would not be surprising for them to be seen as lovers meeting in secret in a dark, dirty alleyway.

“What do you want,” repeated Dorothea, even as she readied herself to blast a crime lord(?) in the face. Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that. The underground had always been messy, and entangling oneself with people even the Goddess wouldn’t touch with a six metre pole is naturally a terrible idea. A little late for regret though, now that it’s boiled down to being cornered in an alleyway in some city in Faerghus by some famously dangerous person of the underworld, assuming the Savage Mockingbird in front of her really is the Savage Mockingbird and not some person pretending to be Savage Mockingbird. Goddess help the boy if he wasn’t.

“Just a favour and a question. Simple and easy enough.”

“Nothing ever is,” muttered Dorothea.

“Ha! That’s true. Though I believe answering this shouldn’t be too troublesome. How many people were you singing for last night and who were they?”

“How will I know I won’t end up how you warned me about if I told you?”

The Savage Mockingbird’s smile only grew in response as he whistled a short tune. A small girl quickly appeared by his side. 

“Liess, protect the young lady for me until she leaves the city, won’t you? If you do a good job, she might even sing for you.” 

The girl, no, woman’s eyes grew wide as she turned to Dorothea.

Visibly struggling with her decision, Dorothea met the eyes of the eager Liess. Such a simple question should have a simple answer, but both answering and not will bring trouble. For one, revealing the identities of the attendees of a private meeting whose host clearly stated the members of which would definitely not be revealed to anyone is without doubt, bad. Especially when it was explicitly implied that events that would befall someone who had angered or betrayed a crime lord would occur. Mainly death or some grievous maiming of the face. However, if what the pretty purple haired rival crime lord said was true, she had somehow landed herself on a road with only one destination. The promise of gold really does mess with one’s rational thinking.

“There were three people. One had a large beard and a sword tattoo on his left arm, while the other wore a large silver ring on his right hand. I’m not sure about the third one, but I heard someone call him Myson.”

The youth tapped a contemplative finger aginst his delicate lips, as his smile briefly slid into something sly and calculating before returning to its previous charm. 

“That was quick, wasn’t it? Don’t worry about your safety, Liess does an excellent job if you humour her. She's mute but she likes to hear people single. Oh, and here's a word of advice- don’t go around singing for this sort of people again, no matter what they offer. You’re lucky I was looking for information on the Ten Swords. Those that have left the dark behind shouldn’t go around jumping into it again. Now, go home to your opera people. I'm sure they'll be worried if their star singer goes missing.”

The boy turned to leave but was stopped by the stubborn voice of the songstress.

“Wait. Tell me your name. You know mine, and what I do, so it’s fairer this way. Also! I’m not really young anything, not when you’re hardly older than me. I’m not wrong.”

Something long forgotten fluttered in the belly of the Savage Mockingbird, soft and gentle and loving. Something that didn’t belong in the situation it was currently in. 

Letting out a short laugh that seemed to be the only genuine one out of all the others in their brief conversation, the boy gave a half glance at the flustered girl. The sun came out in its full force, its light fully framing the profile of the handsome youth. Catching the sunlight, his hair seemed to emit a pale sort of glow. The makeup he wore only accentuated his ambiguous beauty.

Lazily saluting the singer as he meandered away, the boy drawled a single name:

“Yuri”.


End file.
